A King and His Fools
by Erzbet
Summary: After catching wind of someone new moving into the house in which he'd killed his family, Jeff the Killer and his friend Eyeless Jack decide to investigate. Upon getting there, they find something that Jeff never expected. (Pilot chapter up, will continue story if it gets positive feedback)


**(A/N) Hey, guys! I've somewhat lost inspiration for _A Smile Like Yours, _as I have to rewrite some details, and I just _was not feeling it._ Luckily, though, a close friend of mine will be writing a guest chapter as soon as I get off my lazy ass and fix the story. In the meantime, I've completely mapped out all the details for this new story. If you guys like it, let me know and I'll continue with it. Thank you! ~E**

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_I guess that day meant a lot to me._

"I'm not sure where you're going with this, Jeff." Jack muttered from behind me. As far as best friends went, Jack was mediocre at best, but he still meant a lot to me.

"Just trust me, okay?" We'd been walking for about fifteen minutes; Jack tended to get pissy when I made him walk places, but it wasn't as if I could have driven here. It was three in the morning, and I was being extra cautious tonight. We came upon a little house at the end of a cul de sac and stopped.

The home looked like home to me. It was mine, after all. Or rather, it used to be. I knew every inch of the little white house inside and out—assuming no one had altered it. That was, of course, what Jack and I had come to find out. The building had housed me for a short time as a child. Liu, my parents, and I had resided here from the day we moved in until they were killed. I was rather fond of this home, and I'd caught wind that someone new had moved in, and I would be rather...displeased, should anything be out of place.

A scowl on my face, I sauntered up to the building and knelt beside the lock. "Jeff, I trust you with my life, you _know _that, but—" Jack hissed from behind me. I shrugged, digging through the leather bag I carried with me. I pulled out my tools and picked the lock with experienced ease, and the door swung open .

"And I trust you with mine." I began, rising to my feet and gliding into the home. "I grew up here." I clarified, smiling widely. Right in front of me was a staircase going up. I ignored it and instead went to the right, making my way down the hall.

Jack followed me, grumbling. "Be quiet." I scolded, turning left and heading down another staircase.

"Who's gonna hear me?" Jack grumbled, nearly tripping on the stairs.

I didn't reply, instead continuing. The stairs let out to the basement. It was all one room. The walls were just white bricks, and the floor was concrete, but it was very familiar to me.

As you can imagine, no one had lived here for years—a murder in the home puts a damper on the market, as you can imagine—so it had remained untouched. My bed sat against the far wall, with my plain blue sheets still messily strewn across it. The rest of my furniture was still placed around the room in my haphazard manor. My bookshelf and my dresser were old and worn, having not been touched in years. My dark blue rug sat in its usual place on the floor, all my furniture circled around it.

Like a child, I ran up and flung myself on the bed, curling up in the sheets. "This is my room. Was, my room." I chuckled lightly.

Jack shook his head. "Is this what we're here for? So that you can take a nap in your old bed?"

I shook my head, begrudgingly getting out of the bed. "That's not what we're here for." I admitted, running my hands along the soft fabric. "Just thought I ought to visit my own room before...the rest of the house." My voice cracked once, wondering exactly what awaited up the stairs.

"Where's everyone else's old rooms?" Jack asked, glancing back at the steps.

"Top floor." I said, pushing past him to to go back the way we came. "Come on, slowpoke." I whispered. I didn't normally bring Jack with me when I went out at night; after all, he and I ended up talking more than working. Still, I often found that it's nice to have an old friend here to help me.

"Why so isolated?" Jack snickered. "Did your family _really_ hate you that much?"

"I wanted to be as far from my parents as possible. Liu wanted to stay down there with me—plenty of space, you know—but my parents wouldn't let him." I twitched my nose in annoyance, remembering the conversation like it had been yesterday. I made my way back up the steps, and traveled to the other staircase.

Jack and I stopped at the bottom, examining the carpet. I noticed that it hadn't been replaced, which meant the upstairs would be...gruesome. Even on the stairs, dark spots and a few of my bloody footprints were visible. "Come on." I instructed, trudging up the steps.

Jack followed, grumbling out loud. "Do you _need_ me here?"

"Shut the fuck up." I growled back, getting to the top of the steps and looking around. I opened the door to my immediate right, glancing warily at the blood on my floor. The bodies were gone, of course, but the blood remained. I smirked to myself, entering the room and flipping on the lights.

It was empty. My smirk fading into a frown, Jack and I meandered into the room, dumbfounded. If anyone had moved in here, this was the room I assumed I'd find them in. "Maybe no one's here." Jack said, not bothering to be quiet anymore.

"There are other rooms, dumbass." I scolded, my voice still a hushed whisper. "Keep your damn voice down!"

"Don't tell me what to do." Jack loudly cackled.

_"Jack!"_

"Jeff, you woke me up in the middle of the night to take me to a house that no one in their right mind wold want to stay in for more than a minute—"

_"Jack, shut up!"_

"—just because you were so stubborn that you couldn't let anybody else stay here? It's not like _you_ want to—"

"Are you boys going to keep arguing, or...?" A different voice spoke up. Jack and I both whipped around to see a man standing in the doorway.

It didn't take me long to figure out who it was. His bright green eyes were mostly covered by his long, dark brown hair, and his mouth was covered by a black and white striped scarf. The white of the scarf was the only thing that stood out in his clothing, as the rest of it—his t-shirt and his jeans—were completely black. The pale man reached up and pulled his scarf down, smiling softly. He pushed his bangs back and fixed his gaze on me. "What's the matter? See a ghost, big brother?" He asked, chuckling lightly.

He was right. I _was_ seeing a ghost. A ghost that was _very_ much alive.


End file.
